


the truth you tell your friends and family

by oxygenlove



Series: the five kinds of truth [2]
Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Romance, Secret Relationship, nonAU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 08:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18311534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oxygenlove/pseuds/oxygenlove
Summary: jealousy comes from secrecy





	the truth you tell your friends and family

**Author's Note:**

> **The Five Kinds of Truth**  
>  _set to[time walking through memories](https://youtu.be/HW5HU6o1eMA?t=14s) by nell_
> 
> There are 5 kinds of truth: the truth you tell casual strangers and people you meet, the truth you tell your friends and family, the truth you tell only a few people in your entire life, the one you tell yourself, and the truth you won’t even admit to yourself. 

**truth two,** _mid 2015_

The dressing room is filled with the familiar buzz of stylists and coordis milling around, adjusting pins and needles on flimsy expensive stage clothes. Everyone is busy. Staff with their hands and EXO with counting seconds of free time between flight and concert stages. It’s a few beats of privacy that they rarely get to enjoy, ones before reporters flock in and tv crew starts filming from every direction, asking questions they’ve been asked in every country as they repeat answers they’ve memorized in different languages. Annyeong. Hello. Konichiwa.

Jongin is tucked in his own corner of the room, arms wound around legs brought up to his chest. He has Keigo Higashima’s latest book propped up on the dresser amidst makeup and hairspray, words swimming in his eyes as he fails to focus on the page for the last half hour. He tries not to look at the mirror in front of him but his eyes betray him every other minute. 

Reflected on the mirror is Kyungsoo sitting on a couch across the room, Chanyeol next to him with a guitar on his lap. Jongin can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can see Chanyeol strumming random notes as Kyungsoo hums-sing along. Jongin wonders, not for the first time, why he never bothered learning how to play. But then again, he remembers never feeling like this, like time is slipping between his fingers in front of him.

Jongin shakes his head to himself and looks back down to his book. He tries to read the page again, mouths the words to himself in silence. He ends up looking back at the mirror on his second sentence.

Kyungsoo is seated two feet away from Chanyeol, legs curled up beneath him on the leather couch. Jongin thinks it’s a small consolation, the distance between. Kyungsoo has always made sure never to be too close and for that, Jongin is grateful. But his lungs still has trouble breathing, filling with empty puffs of air that is not nearly enough. There’s a burning warmth spreading through out his body, creeping its way inch by inch across his skin. Jongin knows this feeling all too well. He inhales and hopes the leaded feeling in his chest would disappear if he breathes deeply enough. It doesn’t.

Kyungsoo raises his head then, catches Jongin’s eyes in the mirror. Jongin doesn’t flinch, doesn’t avert his eyes like he used to. This time, he holds the gaze, blinks once, smiles his small little smile, then slowly brings his eyes back down to the book in front of him. He knows Kyungsoo has seen it. There is no use in hiding the dim light in his eyes. Jongin has always been easy to read, eyes an open book that Kyungsoo was able to memorize like a drama script. He wishes he weren’t, wishes Kyungsoo didn’t see the down curve of his smile, didn’t see the shadow in his eyes. But Jongin knows Kyungsoo saw, because when Jongin glances back, a split-second glance he tried so hard to control, Kyungsoo has moved to the edge of the couch. Chanyeol is nowhere to be seen.

Jongin feels the warmth under his skin turn cold.

Jongin knows that jealousy isn’t healthy. Kyungsoo isn’t bound to him exclusively. There is no rule that says he can’t sit with other people, can’t talk to other people. They are free to move in their own circles. Kyungsoo is his own person. Jongin isn’t selfish. He can’t keep Kyungsoo all to himself.

But he wants to. And that’s a problem.

He looks again. Kyungsoo has his phone in his hand. He looks at Jongin just as Jongin’s phone vibrates with a new message.

_Come here?_

Jongin looks around, sees coordis sewing and running around in almost calm-panic as stylists try to hide days of sleepless practice from Junmyeon and Minseok’s eyes, tries to comb discipline in Jongdae and Sehun’s hair. Yixing is being fitted into a suit a size too big, last minute adjustments to garments that aren’t his. Baekhyun is talking to his phone in a corner. Chanyeol is still nowhere to be seen.

Another message.

_Before the reporters arrive._

Despite the guilt, Jongin stands up and makes his way to the other side of the room, sidestepping busy concert staff and piles of boxes on the floor. Kyungsoo is smiling when he reaches him. Jongin sits a few inches apart but he places his hand between them, touching the warmth of Kyungsoo’s thigh. 

Careful. Be very careful, he repeats in his head.

“I’m trying,” Jongin says, voice quiet in the dressing room noise. Kyungsoo looks around before he places his hand between them too, not quite above Jongin’s hand, not quite holding. But the tip of his finger is touching the inside of Jongin’s wrist, their arms warm against each other.

“I know.”

Jongin looks up, sees Kyungsoo’s eyes smiling at him. He feels better.

“You didn’t have to.”

Chanyeol comes back in then, sees the two of them on the couch and heads for the dresser next to Yixing. Jongin feels pinpricks across his skin. Cold guilt.

“Would it make you feel better if we tell him too?”

Would it?

Jongin has thought of this more times than he cares to admit. The knowledge that Chanyeol knows his place, knows his boundaries, would it make Jongin feel better? But Jongin knows it’s even more selfish to tell someone simply because he can’t keep his own feelings in check. Kyungsoo doesn’t feel comfortable with people knowing, Jongin doesn’t too. There’s no need to spill more than what’s needed just to appease Jongin’s own insecurities. He’ll learn. He’s trying.

“We don’t have to,” Jongin shakes his head with a smile. It isn’t an answer to the question, but it’s the best option. Kyungsoo smiles back.

“We don’t have to,” Kyungsoo repeats as he moves an inch closer, fingers moving slowly, deliberately, until he’s holding Jongin’s hand between their thighs. Jongin raises an eyebrow. Kyungsoo just shrugs as he leans back, resting his head on the back of the couch with closed eyes, “But you want to.”

Jongin looks around, then at their hands, then at the pale neck arched to his side. Jongin gulps. He wants to. Oh yes he does.

But.

But would it really make everything better?

“Hyung, I—”

Kyungsoo raises Jongin’s hand to his lips in a flash of movement, a fast blur of fingers and white stage costumes that Jongin almost misses if not for the pleasant tingling heat where Kyungsoo’s lips touched the skin of his hand. But in a second, their hands are back on the confines of the small space between their thighs and Jongin is left to look around with eyes wide, checking. Did anybody see that? Did a camera capture that? Against his better judgment, he looks at Chanyeol. Did he see that?

No. Everyone is busy. Jongin feels a mix of embarrassment and pity.

Jongin looks back at Kyungsoo. There’s a knowing smile on Kyungsoo’s pretty lips. An almost-smirk.

“Hyung, I don’t know what—”

“Why, Jongin?” Kyungsoo opens his eyes. There’s a strange glint in them that makes Jongin’s heart beat as fast as concert stages do, staccato spacing filled with breathless in-betweens. “I told you already, didn’t I? I promised. You don’t have to worry, and I’ll make sure of that. I know you’re trying. I can see you’re trying. But I’m trying too. I promised, Jongin. And I never break my promises.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t blink, his eyes focused on Jongin’s face. It warms Jongin’s skin from the sincerity and attention. When did Kyungsoo get so good with words?

“When did you get so good with words, hyung?”

1 2 - a beat of flashback that takes them back to a few months ago. Jongin was slipping away and Kyungsoo was determined to hold on.

“Since you taught me that I have to.”

And that’s all that Jongin needs. That’s all it takes for Jongin to smile, a smile that reaches his eyes. The first one in a while.

“C’mere and rest before the reporters flock in,” Kyungsoo squeezes Jongin’s hand, a reminder that this is different. They’re different.

Jongin sinks back into the couch, head tipped back with closed eyes. In their small cocoon of privacy, Jongin hears the noise of shoes shuffling along on carpeted floor and the hum of blowdriers with nicks and ticks of scissors against fabric. Everyone is busy. But all that matters is the heat from Kyungsoo’s body beside him, hand warm and solid on top of his. Jongin is afraid. He still is. You can’t just erase fear with words. But Kyungsoo’s trying. Kyungsoo’s trying and he’s so very very warm.

Jongin can’t help the smile that makes its way across his face.

Maybe they can’t tell all their friends, not even all the members know, and certainly not everyone in their families. Not yet, anyway. Or perhaps they already know or at least have an inkling but—

“I’m happy,” Jongin says silently, the sound of the hairdryer drowning out his words.

Kyungsoo doesn’t say anything but he squeezes Jongin’s hand and that’s enough.

—but they don't matter. 

Maybe, there will come a time when they can tell everyone around them. When it's not just hidden behind the pretense of fanservice or their noticeable lack thereof compared to others'. And maybe, when that time comes, the feeling of wanting to hold Kyungsoo too close and keep him all to himself will vanish along with his worries and insecurities. Jongin sometimes hates himself for it, and sometimes, he wishes he can rework his emotions to numb the irrational fears. 

But Kyungsoo said it best. This here, this is theirs and no one else's. No one is entitled to their love but themselves. There's no need to tell the world. 

In the distance, Jongin hears fabric ripping and the exasperated sigh of a coordi shouting for needles. 

Beside him, Kyungsoo scoots ever so closer and Jongin smiles. In their small temporary cocoon, they hide for a little while.

It may not be forever, but it’s more than enough.

For now, it's definitely more than enough.


End file.
